Dan’s advancing the speed lever was not noticeable in the throbbing or jar of the car; the Breton-Melville was one of the quietest-running automobiles in the market. And this speed was nothing to it—as yet.
But in a very few moments they were running directly behind the heavy car of the Greenes. The dust was choking.
“Oh, do get out of the wake of that old lumber wagon!” cried Lettie, not very politely. “This dust will smother us.”
“And you wouldn’t be contented to run far enough behind to escape the worst of it,” grunted Billy.
“Well, Billy Speedwell!” snapped the council clerk’s daughter, “there’s only one comfortable place in an automobile run—I see that plainly.”
“Where’s that?” asked the innocent Billy.
“A place in the first car,” returned Lettie. “Let the other people have your dust.”
Suddenly the girls uttered a startled and chorused “Oh, my!” Dan Speedwell had sheered the car to the left, it darted ahead as though suddenly shot from a gun, and in a flash had rounded and left behind the heavy touring car, and they were running second.
“Oh, Dannie!” gasped Mildred. “How did you do it?”
“Perry must have run backwards,” grunted Billy, with scorn. “Of course! We can’t get any speed out of this old wreck of a car. Ha! shoot it to them, Dan!”